13 o'clock ( dark-er poetry)

I want to end, rend and rake you
Into little wet leaves of flesh
While you are still alive
Staked down in the yard
Tethered with thistle vines
So that your suffering is as insidious
As your methods were with me

When other people said to me
Oh it can't be that bad
It's only a short chunk of your life
But you ripped it out by hand
Making sure the lines would never match
In your jagged contempt of my wholeness

Stealing intimate parts that you knew
That I would rather die than list the theft of
Further reducing myself by the spectacle
And making vulnerable even more secrets
That my survival depends on keeping hidden

In your forgetful underestimation
You did not calculate correctly my balance
Smearing the ledger at the accounting
Of where I had to trade rights for rites
Not understanding the exchange rate
You dismissed all that was foreign
What you do not understand has no worth to you

That was the error in your algorithms
Nothing figured or disfigured by you
Ever comes out right as you escape
Your real life is plaigerized
Scrapbooks you leave others holding fiction


One of the things that you erased
Was the proof of our love
My heart could not be whited out though
As you ran me too far into the red
But yours was neatly converted
Its black presence in my holdings column an illusion
Revealed to me by the auditor
That has brought you divinely here
For the settlement that we have reached

Love is not to be trifled with
Its power is real and more limitless than greed
Something you should have sought
Instead of treating it as a wrapper
Over what you came to consume
No you did not think of this outcome
When the equation was what will happen
If you cause me to love you more than life

Do not speak thief I know your answer
Risk management is built in to your methods
Meaning that my death would satisfy your debts
But in planning the scam so that you
Were worth more to me than myself in the end

What did you think the collateral would be?

I met you in the summer and by fall
I had
You took my heart and insured it in writing
Promising to grow our mutual investment
But due to the evident misappropriations
We regret to inform you
That you are less than morally bankrupt
Here at the end of this fiscal year you initiated
In fact this leaves you less than humanly feasible

Working away as your screams subside I recite
'This is just how business goes' back to you
Mixing your ruby leaves and tattered clothes
Into the autumn debris from the trees
Which should compost quite quickly
Rotten as you were to begin with I sigh
Autumn always depressed me as the season of death

Before winter covers us all too early in its frost
Like the space of an empty page
For life will write a new year upon its snows
Canceling the evidence of the harvest
Blanking out what is left of you
Until the spring when the grass grows thickly
Before its covering has even melted....

Suddenly I am happy to greet the herald fog
And throw myself relieved into its icy embrace
So much warmer than yours both before and after
Closing my eyes to dream of your face
As the season pulls a white sheet over it I smile

It will always be greener on the other side
some strong and emotive material here - writing can be a great vent. the in bold sounds exactly like my ex!
 
First post to this thread...

The Visitor

It is you again, knocking on my life.
Is there no other to visit?
So many you have taken from my reach,
All just memory now, stones on the heart.
Leave me this, but I already know the answer,
Beloved tomorrow will be a whisper,
Another stone added, weighing down my life.

Is it my season again for your cold touch?
I barely survived the avalanche of too few years ago.
When you darkened my threshold last.
What was the count?
Eight or nine I lost track through the tears.
Leave him to my care, I beg,
Don't leave me naked without love again.

I have run, isolating myself, for I knew you followed.
Trying to keep what's left from your path,
But you found me again,
I feel your breath behind me, waiting for your moment.
As you reach to take another from me,
Plucking them like a banquet fare, are you not full yet?
All I can do is watch as you gorge on the remainder of life.

Cussing and shouting to heavens deaf ears
I know, no help will be granted.
Belief makes me plea as panic adds sincerity to the prayer,
All becomes sardonic laughter in my head to the feeble attempts.
For I know the hour approaches,
Thirteen o clock, leaving me standing in liminal time,
To find my way back again, alone
 
These four wall board
me in. Lock my thoughts
without key. Take away
light
fade, into darkness.
Angel lift
with wings,
radio rhapsody
tunes - to take me
away. For night has settled
no wings to
fly. Forever a fairy
a lifetime
lifetime
lifetime
without you ....



;) <kiss>
 
it is that time, the minute after midnight, the minute before the

first hour past midnight, and you are still up, online, why arent you somewhere
writing? Right here is a good place to start. Or not. But if you have the devilish

urge, to cook something up, some 13 o'clock poetry stew, be my guest and post

here, I might post some two ;)


I saw some sites, looking for dark poetry, without light? horror? narrow, wmpty shoe box poetry? shoe poetry? eeeekkkk!! I hate shoes... :devil:



Bump




:rose:
 
These four wall board
me in. Lock my thoughts
without key. Take away
light
fade, into darkness.
Angel lift
with wings,
radio rhapsody
tunes - to take me
away. For night has settled
no wings to
fly. Forever a fairy
a lifetime
lifetime
lifetime
without you ....



;) <kiss>

Angel lift
with wings,
fly me to heaven
 
midnight rhythm

dark
midnight
longing sweet
burning tingles
I need a man here
right

here
touching
my face neck
shoulders down my
seductive wanton
body

hot
skin smooth
creamy milk
undulating
My hips lift for your
touch

Kiss
lick suck
thrust and ram
pulsing throbbing
Make my body sing!
Fuck

me
taking
you in deep
now riding you
I find my rhythm
drum

stick
it in
pounding out
juice flowing out
I cum Ecstasy
Bliss


I was thinking of submitting this one but wanted feedback first. its a rough (really rough) draft. its in all small caps because i have no idea who to do punctuation for poems....
 
dark
<snip>

I was thinking of submitting this one but wanted feedback first. its a rough (really rough) draft. its in all small caps because i have no idea who to do punctuation for poems....

The short clipped lines make a slow read and break the flow. It's sort of like the shape poems, where the lines make a bell or a diamond. Each section would read better if the same words were one or two lines.

Poetic punctuation is what you make of it. Periods, commas and line breaks control the breath and rhythm of the piece. There are no rules except put them where they sound best to your ear.
 
The short clipped lines make a slow read and break the flow. It's sort of like the shape poems, where the lines make a bell or a diamond. Each section would read better if the same words were one or two lines.

Poetic punctuation is what you make of it. Periods, commas and line breaks control the breath and rhythm of the piece. There are no rules except put them where they sound best to your ear.

I was going for slow and seductive lol with a beat in syllables like

one
one two
one two three
one two three four
one two three four five
one

one
and so on....
 
I was going for slow and seductive lol with a beat in syllables like

one
one two
one two three
one two three four
one two three four five
one

one
and so on....

That's a good scheme, but difficult to express to the reader, because poetry does not have notation like music.

Dark midnight,
longing sweet burning tingles.
I need a man here, right here.


Sometimes we have to choose between what we see on the page and what we hear. All the syllable poems(haiku, tanka, etc) sound like a string or words when read out loud, but to truly appreciate iambic pentameter, it must be read aloud.
 
That's a good scheme, but difficult to express to the reader, because poetry does not have notation like music.

Dark midnight,
longing sweet burning tingles.
I need a man here, right here.


Sometimes we have to choose between what we see on the page and what we hear. All the syllable poems(haiku, tanka, etc) sound like a string or words when read out loud, but to truly appreciate iambic pentameter, it must be read aloud.

I thought the way it was wrote would do for the music notations? isnt that the point of a haiku or am i missing something?
 
I thought the way it was wrote would do for the music notations? isnt that the point of a haiku or am i missing something?

I am not sure there is a point to haiku. Opinions vary and it's the fastest way to start a fight in a group of poets.

Poetry is expressed in the visual and the audible. The voice we hear in our head when we read and the voice we hear when someone else reads can be two very different things. Poetry differs from music, in that it is usually a solitary pursuit. Musicians can be found working in groups, so they need a way to keep tempo and tone together. When poets try to do the same, it's called a choral reading and we still musical notation to keep it all straight. Other than line breaks and punctuation borrowed from prose, we don't have precise notation.

I am sure somewhere a graduate student is working on one. I am just as sure it has been tried many times. Unless one of these systems is fortunate enough to be included in a middle school English text book, it will vanish with all the others. Poetic rules exist so one poet can tell another their poem violates a certain rule and therefore cannot wear a certain label. Every rule which defines a certain type of poem creates an infinite number of other types, simply by excluding them. This is how the 6 line non-rhyming limerick was created.

Reading poetry is a very subjective thing. I lean toward the sensory elements of imagery and feeling. Meter, rhyme, and line length are not quite so important as the meaning. This is my peculiar way and everyone has their own.
 
wire in the heart
threads its way

without love's anaesthetic
sharp with rust flakes
 
Souvenirs

The box was simple
cardboard with nothing
marking its brown surface
but a two-toned logo
for the brand of
cross-trainers that had
been in it originally. Inside
was remnants...pieces
that he decided were all
he needed to remind him
of the special places,
the special moments,
that he could no longer visit
in person--police tape
was like that, after all.
 
Bumping this thread just to show Trix that there have been very dark thoughts around the forum in the past. Enjoy the reads!
 
it is time to lighten up:
So Fuck Daddy G muses "How come there's no black mimes? What the world needs is rapper kings doing pantomime."

"Really?" I ask, incredulous "How you gonna do 'ho'in mime?"

(sound of pantomime)

ah, fuck every one died at the end of that one
 
it is time to lighten up:
So Fuck Daddy G muses "How come there's no black mimes? What the world needs is rapper kings doing pantomime."

"Really?" I ask, incredulous "How you gonna do 'ho'in mime?"

(sound of pantomime)

ah, fuck every one died at the end of that one

I was once so light I got blown out of my boots and face planted in the snow. I prefer having a little more for gravity to work with :D

Thanks for the bump champagne!
 
happy laughter rang out
into the false day
undercurrents run in shallow thought
dismissed
until the come down

When it beat the beat
of drum solos
arms, back and torso
a tango danced
in quick step

There were still
smiles and laughter
None of it mine
 
Last edited:
I was once so light I got blown out of my boots and face planted in the snow. I prefer having a little more for gravity to work with :D

Thanks for the bump champagne!
some where there is a haiku in that

Darkness does too


I was once so light
I got blown out of my boots
gravity sucks ass

sorry my inner basho was eating frog legs
 
The Sinking of the Triune

here come the waves again
the ship's anchor no longer holds
its spot, its shot, capsized
its human cargo discharged
as the waves inundate
this empty road
from the damned harbour
a komodo sits on safer ground
closes its eyes
immune
 
Hate Sex for One


Too late at night
can't get you off
my mind
and I refuse to cry
for you

Squeeze my breasts
hard
the pain sudden and sharp
rake fingernails up my thighs
dig into my hips
harsh as your voice
spitting venom in my head

Grab a vibe
turn it up high
not a speed I like
but fast
and my body can't deny
the power

You glower over me
Dumb cunt
and I come
You're not good enough to be my slut

Fantasize that I'm dry
your sandpaper fingers
scarring me inside

Clit numb
the motor hums relentlessly
hate-filled words pelt me
and I come
convulsing again
and again
till it hurts

Imagine the door slam
the way you often left
without saying anything

Lying in a mess
bruised nipples
broken skin
morning will rise in purples
blues and reds

There's no release in this
no relief
barely notice the tears
too exhausted
not to sleep
 
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